


Memoirs of Room 418

by Pineprin137



Category: Original Work
Genre: Drug Use, F/M, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-16
Updated: 2018-09-16
Packaged: 2019-07-13 07:07:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16012826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pineprin137/pseuds/Pineprin137
Summary: A glimpse into the life of a motel room and the people who inhabit it.





	1. Drunken Love

The man stumbles through the door, nearly losing the woman in his arms. The red-head giggles into his mouth when he trips, crashing into the wall. He growls and tightens his grip around her waist. The door slams closed and he spins to push her against it. The silence of the empty room replaced by breathy moans and the sounds of metal against denim as the man struggles to get himself out of his jeans. They are still mostly dressed, his fly undone and her dress bunched around her waist. Drunk love doesn’t demand full nudity, only enough to get the job done.

The bed lies ignored as he groans against the woman's full breasts. One of her hands catches in his hair and the other grasps at the wall behind her. She doesn’t even notice the rough plaster against her back. He is the only thing in the room. She doesn't see the faded carpet or the floral bedspreads. Her head thrown back against the wall only listening to the sound of skin against skin. He doesn’t even know her name, it wasn't necessary. The black velvet against her skin, the deep vee that ended only inches above her navel. The choker around her neck and the scarlet on her lips told him everything he needed to know. She had seen a guy in jeans and a tee, but the lust in his eyes had closed the deal.

He reluctantly pulls one hand free to catch his balance against the wall. He hardly notices when his hand finds hers and their fingers slide together. All he can hear is the panting of a woman who is on the edge. He shifts his hips just slightly until she gasps. He grins when he feels her nails dig into his scalp. He is almost there but wants to push her over first. He waits to feel her body tighten, trying to hold him snug inside her as long as it can. She whimpers when he adjusts the pace and tilts them so he can touch her just right. That is all it takes. She is falling...in temporary love with a stranger. She wraps her legs tighter around him, her eyes roll back and she moans as he fulfills her desires completely. The feeling of her clenching him breaks him and he follows her into heaven.

His knees buckle and he hits the floor with her in his lap. She manages a weak chuckle as he falls back against the carpet still trying to catch his breath. Trailing her nails down the chest, using the warmth of her lips to ease when he hisses in pain. She yelps when he flips them over. He keeps eye contact as he licks from her belly up to her neck. He gently lies down next to her and pulls her against him. She gladly goes, sprawling on top of his chest.

“Hey, honey?”  
“Mm?”  
“We should do roleplay more often.”  
The woman smiles against the man's chest and brings his hand to her lips so she can kiss the gold band on his finger.

They leave hand-in-hand before the sun comes up. The pillows don’t get used, the sheets aren't tangled in the morning. It seems as if they were never there. The only evidence of their passion caught between sweat-slicked bodies and damp denim.


	2. Sanctuary

The young girl arrives alone. Gripping the straps of her backpack tightly and hesitantly stepping into the dark room. She glances over the room quickly, her eyes searching. When she sees the small desk just below the big mirror she releases a breath and then closes the door. She takes a few steps then turns around and slides the chain into place. Sitting at the desk, the girl looks into the mirror and cringes. Her hair is greasy and damp from the rain, falling limply against her back in a ponytail. Her eyes are still slightly puffy from all the crying. Her fingers brush against the metal stud in her bottom lip. It had been an impulsive decision, fueled by anger and rebellion. She feels moisture against her lashes and quickly rubs her eyes with the sleeve of the large hoodie she wears. She isn’t going to cry. Not again. This is what she wants. This is what she needs. They just can’t see that.

She heaves herself up from the chair and strolls over to the bed. It doesn’t look anything like the patterned quilt she suddenly longs for, but it seems clean and she is exhausted from all the walking. Her body wants her to surrender to the soft pillow and the cool sheets, but she can’t yet. There is still something she needs to do. She slides her backpack off and sets it gingerly on the bedspread. She forces the zipper open, then carefully pulls out each item and lines them up. She allows her eyes to drift over each memento: one half-empty bottle of soda, a ticket stub from the bus, two empty granola bar wrappers, a stuffed-raccoon, and the savings from her big brother's sock drawer.

She gathers up the pile of change and bills and begins to count. She smooths out each bill and stacks the coins making sure that none stick together. She frowns when she places the last coin. There isn’t enough for another bus ticket. Glancing around the room again, she wonders if it is really worth half of her dwindling funds. It had been a splurge, but she is so grateful to be out of the downpour she can still see through the curtains. Once she dries off and warms up, she will move on. Her eyes drift to the desk again, but she is already sliding down to curl up on the bed. Her hands grasp soft fur and she pulls Rick the Racoon against her chest. His fur quickly dampens as she gives in to the tears. It doesn’t take long before the girl is asleep surrounded by all of her meager belongings.

In the morning she allows herself a shower in the dingy bathtub. She sighs when the warm water hits her skin. She uses up the entire bottle of the complimentary shampoo and lotion. There is no fancy body wash, but the bar of soap gets rid of the mud from her legs and the layer of grime under her fingernails. There isn’t any toothpaste, but she does run a wet washcloth over her teeth as best as she can. She sits on the bed wrapped in the scratchy towel for a long time. Trying to plan her next move. Her jeans and t-shirt, which she had soaped up in her shower, are mostly dry by check out. After gingerly placing everything back in her bag, the girl lingers in the doorway. One last desperate glance at the rumpled sheets and then she leaves.


	3. Pharmacy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains drug use. You have been warned.

A young man sits on the edge of the bed rocking back and forth. His teeth grit together in an attempt to stop them chattering. Goosebumps cover his skin. One of his sneakers taps against the carpet while he rocks. He glances at the door again, but it remains shut. He is alone. He can feel his stomach turn as he rocks and a shiver tears through him. He jerks forward in a heave. He has nothing left to give, but his body demands more. He fists his hands against the bedspread as he chokes and coughs, spit and bile dripping from his chapped lips onto the floor. The pain he felt in his abdomen travels up to his head. His hands release the bed so he can clutch at it. It feels like spikes are being driven into his temples. He moans against the pain, praying for relief.

Someone knocks and the flimsy door shakes. Doubled-over, his arms crossed over his sour stomach, the man on the bed jumps. He knows he can’t make it the three feet required to open the door so he sucks in a breath and forces out, “It’s open.”

  
The junkie closes his eyes against the sunlight that pours through the door when it swings open. When the newcomer whistles, he winces and drops his head towards his sweat-soaked t-shirt. He fumbles for his front pocket. His hands shake too hard for him to get a good grip on the ripped denim. The stranger finally shuts the door and then makes his way over to lean against the wall across from the man on the bed. The dealer wears a slightly irritated, impatient look and grimaces when the young man finally manages to shove a shaky hand in his pocket and then shoves a roll of damp bills towards him. He uses his shirt to grasp the money and deposits it into the pocket of his long coat. The junkie glances at him with desperation in his eyes so he grabs a small pouch from the other pocket. Withdrawal is a bitch; the other man’s eyes widen with want. The dealer holds it out to his customer, but far enough that the young man has to release the grip on his filthy shirt to snatch it. He just smirks and rolls his eyes. “We done here?” The junkie gives him a jerky nod and the dealer sneers before leaving.

The young man struggles to open the baggie and cries when it finally parts to reveal its contents. His hands shake so bad that he almost drops it on the floor. He doesn’t even try to wet his finger with his tongue, he knows his mouth is too dry to provide enough saliva. Instead, he runs his finger along his forehead, then sticks it into the white powder. He rubs it frantically along his gums and waits.

It doesn’t take long before he feels his body react. The shaking slowly softens until it is just an occasional twitch. Once his hands are completely still, he slides from the bed and crawls towards the desk. The money was the only thing he had on him when he stumbled into the room, so now he taps it out and lines it up with his fingers. It isn’t very straight, but the young man couldn't care less. He lowers his face to the wood and then throws his head back after the powder enters his nose. It takes two more crooked lines before he is able to splash some water onto his face. He doesn’t worry about the puddle of sick on the floor or the splatters of blood in the sink. The desk is clean, every particle of white powder either racing through his bloodstream or safe in the plastic baggie. The addict runs damp fingers through his hair before he stuffs his favorite medicine in his pocket and strolls out the door.


	4. Rest Stop

The silence of the room is broken by the slamming of the door as a brother and sister race each other to see who will get to the bathroom first. The boy smirks at the little girl with pigtails in her hair before he shuts the door in her face. She huffs and bangs her fists against the flimsy wood. A woman comes into the room with a rolling suitcase behind her and an exhausted smile on her face as she watches her daughter. The last members to enter the room are a man with deep shadows under his eyes and the large shaggy dog that leads him.

The woman consoles the young girl and listens to complaints about her brother. She glances over at the bed where the man has laid down. He is still wearing his shoes so she moves over to remove them after the bathroom door opens and the boy comes out in a pair of swim trunks.

“I’m going to head to the pool with the kids. You get some rest.”  
“Take the damn dog...please.”

She hadn’t been expecting a response from the man, but nods. The boy bounces on his feet near the door and complains about his sister as he holds the dog leash in his fist. “She’s taking forever! Can’t we just go without her? She can stay with dad.”

His mother simply frowns at him and shakes her head. She is already wearing her own suit underneath her jean shorts, but she puts on a large t-shirt that covers the black lycra. She pulls a scrunchie off of her wrist and secures her hair into a ponytail just as the little girl emerges from the bathroom in a striped suit and flip-flops. The woman grabs the two threadbare towels from the bathroom and follows her kids out the door.

The man wakes to the sound of hushed laughter. He lifts his head from the pillow and glances at the small table where the children are playing with a deck of cards. The dog is curled up nearby watching over his charges. The woman smiles at the man from the other bed where she reads a book. He rolls over until he faces her, “What do you want to do for dinner?”

The children erupt with an argument for pizza, and after a few moments, the phone is used to order a large pepperoni with extra cheese.

After the now empty pizza box is deposited on top of the trash can by the desk, the woman helps the children bathe and settles them into one of the beds. They are lulled to sleep by the sound of running water as each of their parents takes a quick shower. The woman quickly towel-dries her hair as much as possible and slides into bed next to her husband. Her skin is covered in goosebumps from her cold shower and she snuggles against him with a sigh.

In the morning the man and woman discuss water parks at the small table while they plan out the day’s activities. The children awaken sleepily asking about breakfast. A while later the boy is allowed to go out with his father while the dog visits the grassy area outside. The woman busies herself with brushing the little girl’s hair and pulling it into one long braid that falls to the top of her Hello Kitty tank top. The woman makes one bed, while her daughter pulls the covers up on the other. The girl has to crawl onto the bed to reach the middle, but she manages to match her mother's and blushes when the woman compliments her. She follows her mother’s instructions to pack away her and her brother’s things into the small blue suitcase. She makes sure to set her stuffed dog on top when she is done so that he won’t get left behind. The family dog munches on a treat in the backseat as the siblings help their father load the packed suitcases into the car. The man gets into the van after his children are situated and the woman does one last check of the room before she closes the door and joins her family.


	5. Layover

The silence in the room is interrupted by the dinging of an alarm. The man sleeping in the bed pushes the sheets off his body and swings his sock-covered feet to the floor. There is no way he would walk in his bare feet on this carpet. There are several mystery stains that made him wrinkle his nose after he arrived last night. He manages to wash his face and brush his teeth, but he isn’t going anywhere near the shower. He guesses it had been white at some point, but now it is a dingy gray color that suggests it will never be clean again. The man isn’t really in need of a shower anyway, but the hot water would have been nice to soothe his tense muscles.

He curses the stupid airline when he drops his last contact and it slides down the drain. He mumbles about Mr. Gregory and the other partners when he stubs his toe against the desk on the way to his bag. He slams his fist against the desk before he digging in his carry-on to find his glasses. He shoves the metal frames on his face and then returns to the dim-lit bathroom. He pulls the white bottle out of his shaving bag and pops two of the pills, swallowing them with a sip from his water bottle. He isn’t going to risk drinking the tap water from the rusty faucet. He has no desire to drop dead from lead poisoning because he was forced to stay in a crappy motel. He pours more water into a small dish and lathers up his face with shaving cream. Once he has removed the stubble, he pulls a tub of gel from his bag and smoothes his hair into place. He looks himself over in the cracked mirror and decides he is presentable.

After he finishes grooming, he walks back over to his suitcase to pull out three large rolled-up clothing items. After failing to find somewhere clean to place them, he sets two on his bag and unrolls his dress pants. He smiles with satisfaction at finding no wrinkles. Wouldn’t do to look like a hobo. He unrolls his undershirt next and carefully tucks it into his pants. He does the same with his dress shirt before sliding on his belt. He grudgingly uses the wobbly kitchen chair to slip on his Italian loafers. The man watches himself in the large mirror as he fixes his tie and fastens his cufflinks.

He smoothes a well-worn towel onto the bed before sitting and pulling out his cell phone.

“Hello?” The man sighs with relief when he hears a familiar deep voice on the other end of the line.

  
“Hey. Just wanted to let you know that I got another flight. It leaves around three so I should be there about seven.”

  
“Oh. Okay. You alright? You sound tired.” He rolls his eyes as he imagines a frown on the other man’s face. The businessman shakes his head and informs the other man that yes, he is fine. He hears a sigh before the other man moves on to tell him about the kids. The clean-cut, well-dressed man can’t help it when the story of small paint-covered fingers latching onto his boyfriend’s shirt makes him cringe. He knows it will take at least an hour-long soak before the paint washes out. He is once again thankful that his partner has never mentioned wanting any little monsters of their own. He has never been a kid kind of guy.

He vaguely pays attention to the rambling coming through the phone. His eyes move across the room wondering why anyone would ever choose to stay here. The airline refused to provide him with a room after his flight had been canceled yesterday and this was the only place he could find with a vacant room. It is too small and too dingy. The carpet probably hiding a multitude of bodily fluids and the bedspread witness to numerous unsavory acts.

The man glances down at his watch and can’t help the sigh of relief when he realizes he can be free of this stifling prison. He ends the conversation with a short “Oh, look at the time! I have to get going so I can grab some coffee before my flight. I’ll see you at the airport later.” He doesn’t even wait for a response before hanging up. He grabs his toiletry bag from the bathroom and places it back in his suitcase then zips it up and slides the strap of his computer bag on his shoulder. He grabs the handles of his carry-on and hooks them over the handle of his suitcase before grabbing his suit jacket from the single hanger in the tiny closet and hurrying out into the fresh air.


End file.
